


it's all fun and games, until somebody falls in love

by intertwiningwords



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Drunk Sex, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Hate fucking, Lydia this is all ur fault, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-06-09 20:23:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6921952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intertwiningwords/pseuds/intertwiningwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One drunken hookup leads to Melchior falling for somebody he never thought he could tolerate, let alone love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse for this. I'm just trash. Enjoy!

He wasn’t quite sure how it had happened. They’d been at a party, alcohol flowing through their veins, jealously swarming in Melchior’s head as he watched Wendla dance with Ilse, no space between them as they laughed and kissed and hands wandered, like no one else was there.  
A hand on his shoulder made him turn around, and he was there, and Melchior wasn’t sure what to make of the smirk on his face; mocking him, most likely, but his words had no menace behind them.  
"It sucks, doesn't it? I know how you feel."  
Melchior didn’t know how it happened, but he was now being pounded into the mattress, fingernails raking down the other man’s back as he whined and whimpered, crying out as he came.  
And then there was that smirk again, as Hanschen looked down at him.  
And that was the last thing he could remember before he fell asleep.  
There was something- or rather someone- laying on his chest. His eyes fluttered open, looking down to see Hanschen Rilow asleep on his chest.  
Disgust filled him, and he strongly considered shoving the other away, but decided against it. His head was pounding with a hangover and his ass was sore.  
A groan drew his eyes back to Hanschen, whose eyes had fluttered open. He looked up to meet Melchior’s eyes, before pulling away immediately, grabbing his head with another groan.  
“Melchior? What the fuck are you doing in my bed?”  
“Judging by the fact we’re both naked, and you’ve got a giant hickey on your neck, I’d say we fucked,” he replied dryly.  
“Get out.” Hanschen said, glaring at him.  
“Fine, fine!” Melchior replied, standing up and grabbing his clothes from the floor, frantically pulling them on.  
“Nobody else is home- just leave through the front. And lock the door.” Hanschen said sharply, avoiding eye contact.  
Melchior nodded, and did as he was told. He went home, and went back to sleep.  
Melchior knew the awkwardness of seeing an ex around school- Wendla was in nearly all his classes. But he didn’t know how to handle seeing a random, drunken hookup whom you hate around school- Hanschen was also in most of his classes.  
They avoided each other like the plague, desperately trying to pretend it had never happened. But it had, and it couldn’t be avoided forever.

\---

They say that opposites attract, but Hanschen and Melchior were not opposites. Or, were they? They were so similar yet so different, their entire existences clashed with one another. Something just seemed to draw them together- fate, destiny, God, or whatever the fuck was out there.  
It was obvious they couldn’t avoid each other forever. Even excluding school, they lived a block away from each other, and they were both invited to every party by their mutual friends.  
Maybe they’d get drunk and do it again and it would break down the wall between them, or maybe they’d never breathe a word to each other until they graduated. Melchior wasn’t sure which one he was hoping for.  
Anna’s parents were away for the weekend, and she was throwing a party at her house. Obviously, Melchior wasn’t going to turn down the chance to drink and see his friends. Even if it meant seeing Hanschen.  
So, he went, trading his school uniform in for skinny jeans and a sweater. He arrived at her house, greeting all his friends happily. He gave Hanschen a curt nod from the other side of the room. He nodded back.  
It was a start.  
A few drinks, selfies, and bad pop songs later, Thea had suggested Truth or Dare.  
“We’re too old for that bullshit,” Georg had argued.  
But nobody had listened to him, and they had formed a little circle on the floor, an empty beer bottle in the middle of them.  
Thea and Anna made out, Georg did a shot of an unholy mixture made by Melitta, and Otto had confessed a wild sexual fantasy that Georg regretted asking him about.  
Otto spun, and it landed on Melchior.  
“Truth or dare?”  
“Dare,” he replied instantly.  
A pause. “I dare you to kiss...Hanschen.” Otto said, smirking.  
The others laughed, Thea wolf-whistled, and Hanschen turned red. Melchior sighed, before standing up, walking over to where Hanschen sat, and pressing their lips together. One, two, three, four, five seconds. And without a word, he walked back to his spot and sat down. He spun the bottle, and the game continued as if nothing had even happened. Melchior ignored the dazed looked on Hanschen’s face, in fact ignored him altogether. Or at least, he tried to.  
But they seemed to drift together after they’d given up on the game, until they were sat beside each other on the couch, knees touching. It sent a jolt through Melchior’s spine just to be touching him, and it disgusted him.  
Enemies to lovers never truly worked out. Not that he wanted it to, obviously. Or did he? No, he was just making a statement, an observation, that even if he did have just a little crush on Hanschen, which he didn’t, it wouldn’t work out. Which he was fine with. RIght?  
He was fucked, wasn’t he?  
Suddenly Hanschen stood, and Melchior found himself asking, “Where are you going?”  
Hanschen turned to look at him. “To take a piss. Why, you wanna follow me there too?”  
“I am not following you.”  
“Sure seems like it.”  
“Fuck you,” Melchior spat, crossing his arms over his chest.  
Hanschen rolled his eyes and walked away, and Melchior sighed.  
He had liked it when they kissed. He could still remember how hands felt on his skin, and how Hanschen had felt inside him that night. Even if he was an asshole, he was a good fuck, and Melchior craved to feel him again.  
He got up and got another drink, getting sucked into a conversation with Moritz and Ernst. Hanschen had gone to talk to Anna and Thea, and Melchior watched the way his fist curled around a beer bottle and wished it were his wrists. He watched the way his lips curled into a smile and wished he was the one who put it there.  
Hanschen must have sensed he was being watched, as he looked up. He didn’t glare, but he didn’t smile either. He just looked back, eyes burning into him.  
Melchior left without saying goodbye to anyone.


	2. two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im back with more sin enjoy

Melchior really hated Hanschen Rilow. It was almost as if he could sense that Melchior wanted him, and he was using it against him. Stupid sexy smirking and biting his lip and...God, he was going crazy, wasn’t he?  
In actuality Hanschen hadn’t changed a bit, it was just Melchior had become hyper-aware of his every little action. Just the hazy memory of hands against his skin drove him crazy, and he longed to feel them once again.  
“Stop staring at him,” Wendla said, smacking his arm and jolting him out of thought.  
“Huh?”  
“You were staring at Hanschen. At least try and be subtle.”  
Melchior shot her a glare, before sighing and putting his head down.  
“How did I downgrade from liking you, to him?” he asked hopelessly.  
Wendla shrugged. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s a downgrade, just a difference. A really big difference.”  
Melchior groaned. “Speaking of really big, he is-”  
“I don’t want to hear it. I told Ilse we’d get lunch together, so I’ll see you later, okay?”  
Melchior nodded glumly, watching her go.  
Truly, how did he go from Wendla to...Ugh.  
Well, they were both short, and intelligent, and...That was really where the similarities stopped. Wendla was kind, and gentle, and adorable...Hanschen was, well, a dick.  
It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even a crush. Melchior blamed it all on lust. Hanschen was hot, but his personality was horrific. He didn’t want to date him, he just wanted to fuck him. That made sense, right?  
But how to get it to happen again was the question. The first time they’d been drunk, but Melchior would probably fuck anyone while drunk. Plus, getting somebody drunk so they’ll fuck you is a crime, if not just morally wrong. But, it wasn’t like Hanschen would ever even touch him while sober.  
He was once drawn out of thought again when he felt that somebody was staring at him. He turned his head, to see none other than the fucking bane of his existence, Hans motherfucking Rilow. He offered him an awkward, small smile. It wasn’t returned as Hanschen ducked his head and turned back to working on whatever homework he had in front of him.  
Then Melchior did something very stupid and impulsive. But, what else was new? He stood up and walked across the cafeteria and sat down right across from him.  
“Hey,” he said.  
Hanschen looked up at him and nodded in response.  
“What are you working on?”  
He moved his hand and pushed the paper towards Melchior.  
“Oh, trig homework? She doesn’t even check it, don’t bother.”  
Hanschen ignored him and continued to work on the problem.  
Couldn’t he give him some credit for trying? At least a moment of eye contact, a smile, a spoken word?  
Melchior sighed. “About the other night-”  
“Don’t.”  
“Why?”  
“Because I don’t want to talk about it. We were drunk, we were both horny and sad. It happens,” Hanschen replied. “It happened. But it didn’t mean shit, alright?”  
Melchior ignored the pang in his chest at his words. “I know it didn’t mean anything. Only thing is, I’m still sad and horny. And you’re a really good fuck.”  
Hanschen tilted his head to the side, probably contemplating what Melchior was implying.  
“You weren’t half bad either,” he finally said, giving Melchior that goddamn smirk. “I’m not totally opposed to the idea.”  
Yes, they were literally discussing casual sex like it was a business deal, but as long as the answer was ‘yes’, Melchior didn’t really care how they arrived there.  
And the answer was yes.  
It started off small, every couple weeks when Melchior’s parents were out they’d meet up and fuck each other senseless. It was totally casual, no-strings attached. Soon it turned into once a month, once a week, then almost every other day.  
Melchior just couldn’t seem to get enough of him. His lips, his hands, his body on his, the way he smelled, felt, tasted… Maybe he was a little obsessed. Only a little though.  
Hanschen’s hands tangled in his hair, grabbed his ass, roamed his entire body and made him whine, moan, and writhe.  
“Harder,” he cried, fingernails digging into the other’s shoulders and raking down his back, leaving angry red scratches in their wake.  
Hanschen did as he was told- Melchior was quite a bossy bottom- and they both quickly came and collapsed against the bed beside each other.  
“Stay,” Melchior found himself telling Hanschen breathlessly, “My parents won’t be home until tomorrow afternoon.”  
Hanschen hesitated. “Sure. Just tonight.”  
What could it hurt, having him stay the night?  
As Melchior fell asleep beside him, head nestled in the crook of his neck, he realized it did hurt. He really liked this- he really liked Hanschen. He was screwed.


	3. three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> melchior fucks up, but what else is new

Nearly four months of hatefucking later, Melchior was in too deep. At school they mostly ignored one another, except the occasional casual interaction. They’d also both agreed to keep their relationship a secret, so unless anyone had pieced together the clues of hickeys and hurried glances, their friends were oblivious of them.  
“My parents will be gone all weekend. You should come stay with me.”  
He hadn’t been thinking when he suggested it, but now Hanschen was sat on his couch, messy haired and in pajamas, and he looked so goddamn cute, Melchior thought he’d die.  
Melchior never thought he would describe Hanschen Rilow as cute, but there was a certain side of him that was just utterly adorable; the way he threw his head back when he laughed, the freckles that littered his body, how he bit his lip while concentrating, and how his eyes lit up when he talked about something she was passionate about.  
Okay, so maybe Melchior had fallen a little harder than intended for him. But he didn’t love him, not even close. He just really liked him. You couldn’t blame him though.  
“Wait, so who’s the guy with the metal arm?” he asked, looking up from his phone at the screen.  
“The Winter Soldier, but his real name’s Bucky. He’s Steve’s friend, but he’s being brainwashed to be a bad guy,” Hanschen explained. “Maybe if you weren’t on your phone, you’d know that.”  
Melchior rolled his eyes and nodded, although he still didn’t really understand anything that was happening. He’d never really cared for Marvel movies, or superhero movies in general, but he’d agreed to watch whatever Hanschen wanted.  
Anyway, he wasn’t too interested in watching anything.  
As the movie went on and Melchior’s patience deteriorated, he scooted closer and closer to Hanschen on the couch, until he was practically sitting on his lap.  
And both their attention turned to each other as their lips met. The movie was forgotten as Hanschen bit at Melchior’s bottom lip, down his jaw, and over his neck.  
But it didn’t exactly go as planned.  
"Why are you laughing?" Hanschen asked, pulling away, annoyance clear in his tone.  
"It tickles!" Melchior complained, hands pushing uselessly at his chest.  
Hanschen rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the smile that curled on his lips.  
"Oh, does it?" he teased, bringing his lips back down to the side of Melchior's neck, pressing feather-light kisses there, and Melchior fell into a helpless fit of giggles instantly.  
"Cut it out!" he whined, trying to squirm away, but Hanschen's arms wrapped around his waist and held him close, fingers crawling up his shirt to tickle his sides, and so he opted to just kick his legs and choke insults and threats out between his laughter.  
But Hanschen ignored them, only continuing his playful torture until Melchior grabbed his face and kissed him in a desperate attempt to make him stop. And it worked, because Hanschen's fingers slowed to a stop and his hands rested flat against his body as he kissed him back. After a moment they pulled away, their foreheads pressed together.  
"I love you," Melchior whispered breathlessly.  
His proclamation was met with silence as Hanschen froze.  
Well, fuck.  
“What?”  
“Nothing,” Melchior said hurriedly, eyes widening. “Just kiss me again.”  
“I think I should go,” Hanschen said, moving to stand.  
“Please don’t.”  
“Thanks for having me stay. I-I’ll text you, okay?” Hanschen offered him an awkward, weak smile, before grabbing his bag off the floor and stepping into his shoes. “Bye, Melchi.”  
And with that, he walked right out the front door.  
Idiot, idiot, fucking stupid idiot! To say he was pissed was an understatement. Angry at himself for saying that, at Hanschen for leaving, at his parents for being away, at Marvel for making the stupid movie that was still playing, at everything.  
He slept on the couch and woke up with a sore neck and a pounding headache. And there he sat for the rest of the day, eating snacks and watching shitty movies and ignoring text messages. He fell asleep on the couch again, and repeated the same on Sunday. Hanschen still hadn’t called. Melchior’s parents returned and he got up off the couch and went in his room, and fell asleep. He woke up late and missed his first three classes, and he trudged through the hallways in sweatpants and glared at anyone who stared at him.  
“What happened to you?” Moritz asked, blunt as ever, when he saw him.  
“I did a stupid thing,” he replied, taking a sip of coffee.  
“That’s vague. You do a lot of stupid things, and they usually don’t make you this upset.”  
“I..” Melchior sighed, “I told a hook-up that I loved him.”  
Moritz gave him a look of sympathy- even he knew that was not a good thing. “And?”  
“He walked out and hasn’t talked to me since.”  
Moritz put a hand on his shoulder, patting it in an awkward attempt at friendly comfort. Instead it felt oddly condescending. “That sucks. Maybe he’ll come around. But that’s so unlike you. Who was it?”  
Melchior hesitated. “We wanted to keep it a secret…”  
“I mean, I’m your best friend. But if you don’t want to tell me, I-”  
“Hanschen.”  
“What?”  
“It was Hanschen.”  
“How the fuck did you fall for him?” Moritz asked incredulously.  
“I have no idea.” he replied honestly.  
“That really sucks.”  
Moritz was not good at giving advice, especially when it came to relationships. But Melchior didn’t think anyone could help in this situation.  
Hanschen was in nearly every class he had that day- sat in front of him, behind him, beside him. And although he tried to avoid him at all costs, there were moments of awkward eye contact and such. It hurt to no longer meet eyes and smile, though he’d never admit it.  
Hanschen had been one of the best things to happen to Melchior in years, and he’d gone and royally fucked it up.  
He turned down invitations places and ignored his friend’s messages. It was probably unhealthy but Melchior couldn’t seem to move on. It had only been a week since they stopped talking, and he thought he’d go crazy if it continued any longer.  
Thea invited them all to hang out. For the first time in that week Melchior got up off his ass and made an attempt to look decent, brushing his hair and dressing up and leaving the house, walking all the way over to the park they’d agreed to meet.  
He stood around and mingled with the others, but when his conversation with Otto paused, he looked up to see Hanschen chatting with Martha.  
And of course, Hanschen must have felt his eyes on him because he looked up, eyes softening when they met his, before he looked away once again.  
And once again, Melchior left without saying goodbye to anyone.


	4. four.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melchior tries to move on. Hanschen gets jealous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somebody stop me.   
> (also blame Lydia for this chapter. (blame Lydia for this entire fic, actually.))   
> hope y'all like it.

“Just talk to him.”   
Melchior crossed his arms over his chest in annoyance. “If it were that easy I would have already, Moritz.”  
Moritz huffed. “Well it’s either work it out, or get over him. I hate seeing you mope around like this.”  
Expression softening, Melchior sighed. “You’re right. Isn’t Bobby Maler throwing a party tonight?”  
“I think so.”  
“Let’s go.”  
“I was gonna study-”  
“Please?” Melchior widened his eyes and stuck out his lip, and Moritz rolled his eyes.   
“Fine, I’ll go with you.”   
Later that night, Melchior and Moritz arrived at Bobby Maler’s house. See, the Rilows had a big house, and a really nice house, but the Malers seemed to be richer than God. And more popular than the Christian religion, because despite it being a huge house, it was packed. Half the people didn’t go to their school at all, and Melchior couldn’t help but wonder where Bobby knew them from. But it didn’t matter- Melchior just wanted to try and hook up with one of them. He didn’t need the details, just a warm body against his.   
But, just Melchior’s luck, no stranger there could catch his interest, and none of them seemed to be interested in him either.   
So, Melchior turned his attention to more familiar faces in the room, and suddenly became very drawn to a very energetic, sweaty, and probably plastered Otto Lammermeier, who was dancing with some blonde girl, before walking away, presumably to get another drink.   
And Melchior made his move, abandoning an already annoyed Moritz to slide up beside Otto, and successfully stealing him away from that girl, who wasn’t even that cute anyway, or at least, that’s what Otto told him, as he shoved Melchior against the wall, pinning his wrists to the wall and kissing him.   
“Am I cuter?” Melchior had asked cheekily, and Otto had bit down on his lips, rutted against him, and whispered, “what do you think?”   
It was a good thing Bobby Maler seemed to have an infinite amount of guest rooms in his house, though this time Melchior didn’t let himself fall asleep beside his one night stand. He got dressed and wandered back downstairs, hair mussed and a giant hickey hidden beneath the collar of his shirt. He found Moritz, who had sat in the corner and was having a very obviously uncomfortable conversation with some girl in a dress so tight it clung to her like plastic wrap.   
Melchior quickly went over to save him, sitting down practically on top of him and greeting him with a, “Hey babe,” and shot the girl a look that clearly said, ‘paws off.’ She huffed and got up.  
“Thank you. I’m too gay for this,” Moritz told him seriously, and Melchior laughed.  
“We can leave if you want.”  
“Already? What’d you do? Wait, I probably don’t wanna know.”  
“Yeah, you don’t. Let’s go.”   
Otto couldn’t look Melchior in the eye all day Monday. Tuesday, he approached Melchior after chemistry.   
“You didn’t tell anyone about Friday night, right?” he asked, looking around to make sure nobody was there to eavesdrop.  
“No,” Melchior replied.   
“You swear?”  
“I swear.”   
“Okay, good. Cause, I’m not gay.”   
Melchior nodded. “Course not.”  
“I’m not! I was just drunk.”   
“I believe you.”   
“Okay...Just don’t tell anybody?”   
“I won’t, I promise.”   
“Thank you.”  
Melchior nodded, and turned to walk away.   
“Melchior?”  
“Yes?”  
“You were like, really good though.”   
Melchior smirked. “You weren’t half bad yourself.”   
Sure, Otto had been good. Like, really good. But it wasn’t the same as it was with Hanschen. There had truly been no strings attached, and they were both perfectly fine with that.  
But Hanschen was not fine when he noticed the big purple bruise poking out of Melchior’s shirt Wednesday afternoon.   
“What the fuck is that?”  
“A hickey,” Melchior replied, refusing to look up at the other.  
“Where’d you get it?” Hanschen asked, and he sounded genuinely annoyed, and maybe even jealous? No, Melchior was probably just imagining it.   
“A guy at a party. Why do you care?”  
“Come over after school today.”   
“Huh?”  
“Come to my house. After school. I miss you.”   
Melchior finally tore his gaze away from his own fingernails up to Hanschen’s face. “Sure.” 

After the last bell, Melchior practically sprinted out of the building. He slowed down after a minute when he realized if he kept it up, he’d probably beat Hanschen to his house. But he did get there quickly, and texted Hanschen that he was outside. The door swung open immediately.   
“Hey. So why’d you want me to-”  
Melchior’s question was cut off as Hanschen grabbed him and pulled him inside, kissing him firmly and slamming the door shut.   
“I know I shouldn’t be jealous, but that hickey pissed me the fuck off,” Hanschen muttered, hands tangling in Melchior’s hair and tugging gently. “I don’t even care who he was, I just want to outdo him. You’re mine to mark.”   
Melchior melted instantly, kissing him back, digging his nails into Hanschen’s upper arms. But no, this was all wrong. He was trying to get over Hanschen, and he just fell right back into his arms...But he couldn’t find it in himself to stop Hanschen from kissing him. Hanschen had called him his….He didn’t stop him from kissing him, or biting down on his lip, or dragging him up the stairs, pushing him against the bed, kissing and biting and sucking all down his neck and chest, and couldn’t complain when his mouth moved lower…  
It was no big deal, right?   
After the two of them had...finished, Hanschen kissed him once again, then pulled away, and whispered, “I love you too.”   
Okay, big deal.


	5. five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's 1:30am here's exactly 500 words of total cheesy bullshit to end this fic.   
> hope you guys enjoyed the ride.

“I love you too.”

“What?”   
“I love you,” Hanschen repeated, “I know we’re young and, realistically, we probably won’t last, but when we’re older we will look back on this and I know I won’t regret any of it, except me being too scared to admit it sooner.”   
This was a joke, right? Some stupid prank, just Hanschen messing with him, there was no way that he meant it, right? Melchior felt dizzy. If he was joking, Melchior was going to fucking kill him, because this was not funny. Unable to think of a coherent response, he simply looked at him in disbelief.   
“Are you just gonna stare at me, or-?”   
“You mean it?” Melchior asked before he could stop himself, “You really mean it?”  
Hanschen chuckled, one hand moving to run through Melchior’s hair. “I do.”   
And Melchior couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips, and he melted into Hanschen’s touch.   
You can imagine the shock on people’s face when Melchior Gabor and Hanschen Rilow were seen in the halls of school the next day, smiling and holding hands.  
It was like they had been enemies, they just had a strong distaste for each other. But people were reacting like how the students of Hogwarts would react if Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy got together; confused, intrigued, but not that surprised.   
Wendla and Moritz were happy for Melchior, but also relieved they wouldn’t have to listen to his whining anymore. Thea and Melitta threatened that if he ever hurt their “baby brother,” they would “chop his dick off and feed it to him.” The other’s were quite indifferent, but Melchior would swear Otto, despite being “totally one hundred percent straight,” seemed a bit jealous.   
Now that they weren’t a secret, Hanschen had become very...possessive was not the right word, because it wasn’t creepy. It just seemed that Hanschen was always holding him in some way; an arm around his waist, holding his hand, a hand on his back.   
And Melchior loved it. In case it wasn’t obvious, he really loves attention. Especially from Hanschen, even before that night they hooked up. There had just always been something about Hanschen that drew Melchior to him.   
They went on their first proper date.   
Melchior introduced Hanschen to his mother as his boyfriend.   
More dates, more kissing, more parties, more sex, more cuddling, more, and more.  
To think, all of this started from one night, one night of slightly drunken sex had turned into so much more. A simple hook-up turned into so much more. A break-up that could have been the end of them had turned into so much more.   
And Melchior could not have felt more grateful in the universe for turning it into so much more.


End file.
